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diff --git a/23366-0.txt b/23366-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..fd2aea2 --- /dev/null +++ b/23366-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1215 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Philanthropist, by Josephine Daskam + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A Philanthropist + +Author: Josephine Daskam + +Release Date: November 6, 2007 [EBook #23366] +Last Updated: March 8, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A PHILANTHROPIST *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + + +A PHILANTHROPIST + +By Josephine Daskam + +Copyright, 1903, by Charles Scribner's Sons + + +“I suspected him from the first,” said Miss Gould, with some irritation, +to her lodger. She spoke with irritation because of the amused smile +of the lodger. He bowed with the grace that characterized all his lazy +movements. + +“He looked very much like that Tom Waters that I had at the Reformed +Drunkards' League last year. I even thought he was Tom--” + +“I do not know Tom?” hazarded the lodger. + +“No. I don't know whether I ever mentioned him to you. He came twice to +the League, and we were really quite hopeful about him, and the third +time he asked to have the meeting at his house. We thought it a great +sign--the best of signs, in fact. So as a great favor we went there +instead of meeting at the Rooms. I was a little late--I lost the +way--and when I got there I heard a great noise as if they were singing +different songs at the same time. I hurried in to lead them--they get +so mixed in the singing--and--it makes me blush now to think of it!--the +wretch had invited them all early, and--and they were all intoxicated! + +“I am sorry I told you,” she added with dignity; for the lodger, in an +endeavor to smile sympathetically, had lost his way and was convulsed +with a mirth entirely unregretful. + +“Not at all, not at all,” he murmured politely. “It is a delightful +story. I would not have missed it--a choir of reformed drunkards! But do +you not, my dear Miss Gould, perceive in these little setbacks a warning +against further attempts? Do you still attend the League? It is not +possible!” + +“Possible?” echoed his visitor; for owing to certain recent and untoward +circumstances, Miss Gould was half reclining in her lodger's great +Indian chair, sipping a glass of his '49 port. “Indeed I do! They +had every one of them to be reformed all over again! It was most +disgraceful!” + +Her lodger checked a rising smile, and leaned solicitously toward her, +regarding her firm, fine-featured face with flattering attention. + +“Are you growing stronger? Can I bring you anything?” he inquired. + +Miss Gould's color rose, half with anger at her weakness of body, half +with a vexed consciousness of his amusement. + +“Thank you, no,” she returned coldly, “I am ashamed to have been so +weak-minded. I must go now and tell Henry to pile the wood again in the +east corner. There will probably come another tramp very soon--they are +very prevalent this month, I hear.” + +Her lodger left his low wicker seat--a proof of enormous excitement--and +frowned at her. + +“Do you seriously mean, Miss Gould, that you are going to run the risk +of another such--such catastrophe? It is absurd. I cannot believe it of +you! Is there no other way--” + +But he had been standing a long while, it occurred to him, and he +retired to the chair again. A splinter of wood on his immaculate white +flannel coat caught his eye, and a slow smile spread over his handsome, +lazy face. It grew and grew until at last a distinct chuckle penetrated +to the dusky corner where the Indian chair leaned back against dull +Oriental draperies. Its occupant attempted to rise, her face stern, her +mouth unrelenting. He was at her side instantly. + +“Take my arm--and pardon me!” he said with an irresistible grace. “It is +only my fear for your comfort, you know, Miss Gould. I cannot bear that +you should be at the mercy of every drunken fellow that wishes to impose +on you!” + +As she crossed the hall that separated her territory from his, her fine, +full figure erect, her dark head high in the air, a whimsical regret +came over him that they were not younger and more foolish. + +“I should certainly marry her to reform her,” he said to the birch log +that spluttered on his inimitable colonial fire-dogs. And then, as the +remembrance of the events of the morning came to him, he laughed again. + +He had been disturbed at his leisurely coffee and roll by a rapid +and ceaseless pounding, followed by a violent rattling, and varied by +stifled cries apparently from the woodshed. The din seemed to come from +the lower part of the house, and after one or two futile appeals to the +man who served as valet, cook, and butler in his bachelor establishment, +he decided that he was alone in his half of the house, and that the +noise came from Miss Gould's side. He strolled down the beautiful +winding staircase, and dragged his crimson dressing-gown to the top +of the cellar stairs, the uproar growing momentarily more terrific. +Half-way down the whitewashed steps he paused, viewing the remarkable +scene below him with interest and amazement. The cemented floor was +literally covered with neatly chopped kindling-wood, which rose as in a +tide under the efforts of a large red-faced man who, with the regularity +of a machine, stooped, grasped a billet in either hand, shook them in +the face of Miss Gould, who cowered upon a soap-box at his side, and +flung them on the floor. From the woodhouse near the cellar muffled +shouts were heard through a storm of blows on the door. From the +rattling of this door, and the fact that the red-faced man aimed every +third stick at it, the observer might readily conclude that some one +desirous of leaving the woodhouse was locked within it. + +For a moment the spectator on the stairs stood stunned. The noise +was deafening; the appearance of the man, whose expression was one of +settled rage but whose actions were of the coldest regularity, was most +bewildering, partially obscured as it was by the flying billets of +wood; the mechanical attempts of Miss Gould to rise from the soap-box, +invariably checked by a fierce brandishing of the stick just taken from +the lessening pile, were at once startling and fascinating, inasmuch +as she was methodically waved back just as her knees had unbent for the +trial, and as methodically essayed her escape again, alternately rising +with dignity and sinking back in terror. + +The red dressing-gown advanced a step, and met her gaze. Dignity and +terror shifted to relief. + +“Oh, Mr. Welles!” she gasped. Her lodger girded up his _robe de chambre_ +with its red silk cord and advanced with decision through the chaos of +birch and hickory. A struggle, sharp but brief, and he turned to find +Miss Gould offering a coil of clothes-rope with which to bind the +conquered, whom conflict had sobered, for he made no resistance. + +“What do you mean by such idiotic actions?” the squire of dames +demanded, as he freed the maddened Henry from his durance vile in the +woodhouse and confronted the red-faced man, who had not uttered a word. + +He cast a baffled glance at Miss Gould and a triumphant smile at Henry +before replying. Then, disdaining the lady's righteous indignation and +the hired man's threatening gestures, he faced the gentleman in the +scarlet robe and spoke as man to man. + +“Gov'nor,” he said with somewhat thickened speech, “I come here an' I +asked for a meal. An' she tol' me would I work fer it? An' I said yes. +An' she come into this ol' vault of a suller, an' she pointed to that +ol' heap o' wood, an' she tol' me ter move it over ter that corner. +An' I done so fer half an hour. An' I says to that blitherin' fool over +there, who was workin' in that ol' wood-house, what the devil did she +care w'ich corner the darned stuff was in? An' he says that she didn't +care a hang, but that she'd tell the next man that come along to move +it back to where I got it from; he said 'twas a matter er principle +with her not to give a man a bite fer nothin'! So I shut him in his ol' +house, an' w'en she come down I gave her a piece of my mind. I don't +mind a little work, mister, but when it come to shufflin' kind-lin's +round in this ol' tomb fer half an hour an' makin' a fool o' myself fer +nothin', I got my back up. My time ain't so vallyble to me as 'tis to +some, gov'nor, but it's worth a damn sight more'n that!” + +Miss Gould's lodger shuddered as he remembered the quarter he had +surreptitiously bestowed upon the man, and the withering scorn that +would be his portion were the weakness known. He smiled as he recalled +the scene in the cellar when he had helped Miss Gould up the stairs and +returned to soothe Henry, who regretted that he had left one timber of +the woodhouse upon another. + +“Though I'm bound to say, Mr. Welles, that I see how he felt. I've often +felt like a fool explainin' how they was to move that wood back an' +forth. It does seem strange that Miss Gould has to do it that way. Give +'em some-thin' an' let 'em go, I say!” + +It was precisely his own view--but how fundamentally immoral the +position was he knew so well! He recalled Miss Gould's lectures on the +subject, miracles of eloquence and irrefutably correct in deductions +that interested him not nearly so much as the lecturer. + +“So firm, so positive, so wholesome!” he would murmur to himself in +tacit apology for the instructive hours spent before their common +ground, the great fireplace in the central hall. He never sat there +without remembering their first interview: her resentment at an +absolutely inexcusable intrusion slowly melting before his exquisite +appreciation of every line and corner of the old colonial homestead; her +reserve waning at every touch of his irresistible courtesy, till, to her +own open amazement, she rose to conduct this connoisseur in antiquities +through the rooms whose delights he had perfectly foreseen, he assured +her, from the modelling of the front porch; her utter and instantaneous +refusal to consider for a second his proposal to lodge a stranger in +half of her father's house; and the naïve and conscientious struggle +with her principles when, with a logic none the less forcible because +it was so gracefully developed, he convinced her that her plain duty lay +along the lines of his choice. + +For as a philanthropist what could she do? Here were placed in her hands +means she could not in conscience overlook. Rapidly translating his +dollars into converts, he juggled them before her dazzled eyes; he +even hinted delicately at Duty, with that exact conception of the +requirements of the stern daughter felt by none so keenly as those who +systematically avoid her. + +His good genius prompted him to refer casually to soup-kitchens. +Now soup-kitchens were the delight of Miss Gould's heart; toward the +establishment of a soup-kitchen she had looked since the day when her +father's death had left her the double legacy of his worldly goods and +his unworldly philanthropy. + +Visions of dozens of Bacchic revellers, riotous no more, but seated +temperately each before his steaming bowl, rose to her delighted eyes; +she saw in fancy the daughters and nieces of the reformed in smiles and +white aprons ladling the nutritious and attractive compound, earning +thus an honest wage; she saw a neatly balanced account-book and a +triumphant report; she saw herself the respected and deprecatory idol of +a millennial village. She wavered, hesitated, and was lost. + +That very evening saw the establishment of a second ménage in the north +side of the house, and though a swift regret chilled her manner for +weeks, she found herself little by little growing interested in her +lodger, and conscious of an increasing desire to benefit him, an +irritated longing to influence him for good, to turn him from the +butterfly whims of a pretended invalid to an appreciation of the +responsibilities of life. + +For in all her well-ordered forty years Miss Gould had never seen so +indolent, so capricious, so irresponsible a person. That a man of easy +means, fine education, sufficient health, and gray hair should have +nothing better to do than collect willow-ware and fire-irons, read the +magazines, play the piano, and stroll about in the sun seemed to her +nothing less than horrible. + +Each day that added some new treasure to his perfectly arranged rooms, +and in consequence some new song to his seductive repertoire, left a new +sting in her soul. She had been influencing somebody or something all +her life. She had been educating and directing and benefiting till she +was forced to be grateful to that providential generosity that caused +new wickedness and ignorance to spring constantly from this very soil +she had cleared; for if one reform had been sufficient she would long +since have been obliged to leave the little village for larger fields. +She had ministered to the starved mind as to the stunted body; the idle +and dissolute quaked before her. And yet here in her own household, +across her hall, lived the epitome of uselessness, indolence, +selfishness, and--she was forced to admit it--charm. What corresponded +to a sense of humor in her caught at the discrepancy and worried over +it. + +What! was she not competent, then, to influence her equals? For in +everything but moral stamina she was forced to admit that her lodger was +her equal, if no more. Widely travelled, well read, well born, talented, +handsome, deferential--but persistently amused at her, irrevocably +indolent, hopelessly selfish. + +With the firm intention of turning the occasions to his benefit, she had +finally accepted his regular and courteous invitation to take tea with +him, and had watched his graceful management of samovar and tea-cup with +open disfavor. “A habit picked up in England,” he had assured her, when, +with the frankness characteristic of her, she had criticised him for the +effeminacy. And his smiling explanation had sent a sudden flush across +her smooth, firm cheeks. Was she provincial? Did she seem to him a New +England villager and nothing more? She bit her lip, and the appeal she +had planned went unspoken that day. + +But her desire could not rest, and as to her strict notions the +continual visits from her side to his seemed unsuitable, she gave in +self-defence her own invitation, and Wednesday and Saturday afternoons +saw her lodger across the hall drinking her own tea with wine and +plum-cake by the shining kettle. + +If she could command his admiration in no other way, she felt, she might +safely rely on his deferential respect for the owner of that pewter +tea-service--velvety, shimmering, glistening dully, with shapes that +vaguely recalled Greek lamps and Etruscan urns. And she piled wedges of +ambrosial plum-cake with yellow frosting on sprigged china, and set out +wine in her great-grandfather's long-necked decanter, and, with what +she considered a gracious tact, overlooked the flippancy of her guest's +desultory conversation, and sincerely tried to discover the humorous +quality in her conversation that forced a subdued chuckle now and then +from her listener. + +She confided most of her schemes to him, sometimes unconsciously, and +grew to depend more than she knew upon his common sense and experience; +for, though openly cynical of her works, he would give her what she +often realized to be the best of practical advice, and his amusing +generalities, though to her mind insults to humanity, had been so +bitterly proved true that she looked fearfully to see his lightest +adverse prophecy fulfilled. + +After a cautious introduction of the subject by asking his advice as +to the minimum of hours in the week one could conscientiously allow a +doubtful member of the Weekly Culture Club to spend upon Browning, she +endeavored to get his idea of that poet. Her famous theory as to +her ability to place any one satisfactorily in the scale of culture +according to his degree of appreciation of “Rabbi ben Ezra” + was unfortunately known to her lodger before she could with any +verisimilitude produce the book, and he was wary of committing himself. +The exquisite effrontery with which she finally brought out her +gray-green volume was only equalled by the forbearing courtesy with +which he welcomed both it and her. Nor did he offer any other comment on +her opening the book at a well-worn page than an apologetic removal to +the only chair in the room more comfortable than the one he was at the +time occupying. He listened in silence to her intelligent if somewhat +sonorous rendering of selected portions of “Saul,” thanking her politely +at the close, and only stipulating that he should be allowed to return +the favor by a reading from one of his own favorite poets. With a +shocked remembrance of certain yellow-covered volumes she had often +cleared away from the piazza, Miss Gould inquired if the poet in +question were English. On his hearty affirmative she resigned herself +with no little interest to the opportunity of seeing her way more +clearly into this baffling mind, horrified at his criticism of the +second reading--for she had brought the “Rabbi” forward at last, + + “Then welcome each rebuff + That turns earth's smoothness rough, + Each sting that bids nor sit nor stand, but go!” + +she had intoned; and, fixing her eye sternly on the butterfly in white +flannels, she had asked him with a telling emphasis what that meant to +him? With the sweetest smile in the world, he had leaned forward, sipped +his tea, gazed thoughtfully in the fire, and answered, with a polite +apology for the homeliness of the illustration, that it reminded him +most strongly of a tack fixed in the seat of a chair, with the attendant +circumstances! After a convulsive effort to include in one terrible +sentence all the scorn and regret and pity that she felt, Miss Gould had +decided that silence was best, and sat back wondering why she suffered +him one instant in her parlor. He took from the floor beside him at this +point a neat red volume, and, murmuring something about his inability to +do the poet justice, he began to read. For one, two, four minutes Miss +Gould sat staring; then she interrupted him coldly: + +“And who is the author of that doggerel, Mr. Welles?” + +“Edward Lear, dear Miss Gould--and a great man, too.” + +“I think I might have been spared--” she began with such genuine anger +that any but her lodger would have quailed. He, however, merely smiled. + +“But the subtlety of it--the immensity of the conception--the power of +characterization!” he cried. “Just see how quietly this is treated.” + +And to her amazement she let him go on; so that a chance visitor, +entering unannounced, might have been treated to the delicious spectacle +of a charming middle-aged gentleman in white flannels reading, near a +birch fire and a priceless pewter tea-service, to a handsome middle-aged +woman in black silk, the following pregnant lines: + + “There was an old person of Bow, + Whom nobody happened to know, + So they gave him some soap, + And said coldly, 'We hope + You will go back directly to Bow!' + +And the illustration is worthy of the text,” he added enthusiastically, +as he passed the volume to her. + +She had no sense of humor, but she had a sense of justice, and it +occurred to her that after all an agreement was an agreement. If to +listen to insinuating inanities was the price of his attention, she +would pay it. She had borne more than this in order to do good. + +So the readings continued, a source of unmixed delight to her lodger and +a great spiritual discipline to herself. + +As the days grew milder their intimacy, profiting by the winter +seclusion, led him to accompany her on her various errands. She was at +first unwilling to accept his escort--it too clearly resembled a tacit +consent to his idleness. But his quiet persistence, together with +his evident cynicism as to the results of these professional tours, +accomplished, as usual, his end; and the wondering village might observe +on hot June mornings its benefactress, languidly accompanied by a +slender man in white flannels, balancing a large white green-lined +umbrella, picking his way daintily along the dusty paths, with a covered +basket dangling from one hand and a gray-green volume distending one +white pocket. + +There was material, too, for the interested observer in the picture of +Miss Gould distributing reading matter, fruit, and lectures on household +economy in the cottages of the mill-hands, while her lodger pitched +pennies with the delighted children outside. It was on one of these +occasions that Miss Gould took the opportunity to address Mr. Thomas +Waters, late of the paper and cardboard manufacturing force, on the +wickedness and folly of his present course of action. Mr. Waters had +left his position on the strength of his wife's financial success. +Mrs. Waters was a laundress, and the summer boarders, together with +Mr. Welles, who alone went far toward establishing the fortunes of +the family, had combined to place the head of the house in his present +condition of elegant leisure. “I wonder at you, Tom Waters, after all +the interest we've taken in you \ Are you not horribly ashamed to depend +on your wife in this lazy way?” Miss Gould demanded of the once member +of the Reformed Drunkards' League. “How many times have I explained to +you that nothing--absolutely nothing--is so disgraceful as a man who +will not work? What were you placed in the world for? How do you justify +your existence?” + +“How,” replied her unabashed audience, with a wave of his pipe toward +the front yard, where Mr. Welles was amiably superintending a wrestling +match, “does he justify hisn?” + +Had Miss Gould been less consistent and less in earnest, there were many +replies open to her. As it was, she colored violently, bit her lip, +made an inaudible remark, and with a bitter glance at the author of +her confusion, now cheering on to the conflict the scrambling Waters +children, she called their mother to account for their presence in the +yard at this time on a school-day, and for the first time in her life +left the house without exacting a solemn promise of amendment from the +head of the family. + +“I guess I fixed her that time!” Mr. Waters remarked triumphantly, as he +summoned his second pair of twins from the yard and demanded of them if +the gentleman had given them nickels or dimes. + +The gentleman in question became uncomfortably conscious, in the course +of their walk home, of an atmosphere not wholly novel, that lost no +strength in this case from its studied repression. That afternoon, as +they sat in the shade of the big elm, he in his flexible wicker chair, +she in a straight-backed, high-seated legacy from her grandfather, the +whirlwind that Mr. Waters had so lightly sown fell to the reaping of a +victim too amiable and unsuspecting not to escape the sentence of any +but so stern a judge as the handsome and inflexible representative of +the moral order now before him. + +Miss Gould was looking her best in a crisp lavender dimity, upon whose +frills Mrs. Waters had bestowed the grateful exercise of her highest +art. Her sleek, dark coils of hair, from which no one stray lock +escaped, framed her fresh cheeks most admirably; her strong white +hands appeared and disappeared with an absolute regularity through +the dark-green wool out of which she was evolving a hideous and useful +shawl. To her lodger, who alternately waved a palm-leaf fan and drank +lemonade, reading at intervals from a two-days-old newspaper, and +carrying on the desultory and amusing soliloquy that they were pleased +to consider conversation, she presented the most attractive of pictures. +“So firm, so positive, so wholesome,” he murmured to himself, calling +her attention to the exquisite effect of the slanting rays that struck +the lawn in a dappled pattern of flickering leaf-shadows, and remarking +the violet tinge thrown by the setting sun on the old spire below in the +middle of the village. She did not answer immediately, and when she did +it was in tones that he had learned from various slight experiments to +regard as final. + +“Mr. Welles,” she said, bending upon him that direct and placid regard +that rendered evasion difficult and paltering impossible, “things have +come to a point;” and she narrated the scene of the morning. + +“It is indeed a problem,” observed her lodger gravely, “but what is one +to do? It is just such questions as this that illustrate the futility--” + +“There is no question about it, Mr. Welles,” she interrupted gravely. +“Tom was right and I was wrong. There is no use in my talking to him or +anybody while I--while you--while things are as they are. You must make +up your mind, Mr. Welles.” + +“But, great heavens, dear Miss Gould, what do you mean? What am I +to make up my mind about? Am I to provide myself with an occupation, +perhaps, for the sake of Tom Waters's principles? Or am I--” + +“Yes. That is just it. You know what I have always felt, Mr. Welles, +about it. But I never seemed to be able to make you see. Now, as I say, +things have come to a point. You must do something.” + +“But this is absurd, Miss Gould! I am not a child, and surely nobody can +dream of holding you in any way responsible--” + +“_I_ hold myself responsible,” she replied simply, “and I have never +approved of it--never!” + +He shrugged his shoulders desperately. She was imperturbable; she was +impossible; she was beyond argument or persuasion or ridicule. + +“Suppose I say that I think the situation is absurd, and that I refuse +to be placed at Mr. Waters's disposal?” he suggested with a furtive +glance. She drew the ivory hook through the green meshes a little +faster. + +“I should be obliged to refuse to renew your lease in the fall,” she +answered. He started from his wicker chair. + +“You cannot mean it, Miss Gould! You would not be so--so unkind, so +unjust!” + +“I should feel obliged to, Mr. Welles, and I should not feel unjust.” + +He sank back into the yielding chair with a sigh. After all, her +fascination had always lain in her great decision. Was it not illogical +to expect her to fail to display it at such a crisis? There was a long +silence. The sun sank lower and lower, the birds twittered happily +around them. Miss Gould's long white hook slipped in and out of the +wool, and her lodger's eyes followed it absently. After a while he rose, +settled his white jacket elaborately, and half turned as if to go back +to the house. + +“I need not tell you how I regret this unfortunate decision of yours,” + he said politely, with a slight touch of the hauteur that sat so well on +his graceful person. “I can only say that I am sorry you yourself should +regret it so little, and that I hope it will not disturb our pleasant +acquaintance during the weeks that remain to me.” + +She bowed slightly with a dignified gesture that often served her as a +reply, and he took a step toward her. + +“Would we not better come in?” he suggested. “The sun is gone, and your +dress is thin. Let me send Henry after the chairs,” and his eyes dropped +to her hands again. They were nearly hidden by the green wool, but the +long needle quivered like a leaf in the wind; she could not pass it +between the thread and her white forefinger. He hesitated a moment, +glanced at her face, smiled inscrutably, and deliberately reseated +himself. + +“What in the world could I do, you see?” he inquired meditatively, as if +that had been the subject under discussion for some time. “I can't +make cardboard boxes, you know. It's perfectly useless, my going into a +factory. Wheels and belts and things always give me the maddest +longing to jump into them--I couldn't resist it! And that would be so +unpleasant--” + +She dropped her wool and clasped her hands under it. + +“Oh, Mr. Welles,” she cried eagerly, “how absurd! As if I meant that! As +if I meant anything like it!” + +“Had you thought of anything, then?” he asked interestedly. + +She nodded gravely. “Why, yes,” she said. “It wouldn't be right for me +to say you must do something, and then offer no suggestions whatever, +knowing as I do how you feel about it. I thought of such a good plan, +and one that would be the best possible answer to Tom--” + +“Oh, good heavens!” murmured her lodger, but she went on quickly: “You +know I was going to open the soup-kitchen in October. Well, I've just +thought, Why not get the Rooms all ready, and the reading-room moved +over there, and have lemonade and sandwiches and sarsaparilla, and +Kitty Waters to begin to serve right away, as she's beginning to run the +streets again, and Annabel Riley with her? Then the Civic Club can have +its headquarters there, and people will begin to be used to it before +cold weather.” + +“And I am to serve sarsaparilla and sandwiches with Kitty and Annabel? +Really, dear Miss Gould, if you knew how horribly ill sarsaparilla is +certain to make me--I have loathed it from childhood--” + +“Oh, no, no, no!” she interrupted, with her sweet, tolerant smile. She +smiled at him as if he had been a child. + +“You know I never meant that you should work all day, Mr. Welles. It +isn't at all necessary. I have always felt that an hour or two a day of +intelligent, cultivated work was fully equal to a much longer space of +manual labor that is more mechanical, more tiresome.” + +“Better fifty years of poker than a cycle of croquet!” her lodger +murmured. “Yes, I have always felt that myself.” + +“And somebody must be there from ten to twelve, say, in the mornings, +in what we call the office; just to keep an eye on things, and answer +questions about the kitchen, and watch the reading-room, and recommend +the periodicals, and take the children's Civic League reports, and +oversee the Rooms generally. Now I'd be there Wednesdays to meet the +mothers, and Mrs. Underwood Saturdays for the Band of Hope and the +kitchen-garden. It would be just Mondays, Tuesdays, Thursdays, and +Fridays from ten to twelve, say!” + +“From ten to twelve, say,” he repeated absently, with his eyes on her +handsome, eager face. He had never seen her so animated, so girlishly +insistent. She urged with the vivid earnestness of twenty years. + +“My dear lady,” he brought out finally, “you are like Greek architecture +or Eastlake furniture or--or 'God Save the Queen'--perfectly absolute! +And I am so hideously relative--But, after all, why should a sense of +humor be an essential? One is really more complete--I suppose Mahomet +had none--When shall I begin?” + +The interested villagers were informed early and regularly of the +progress of the latest scheme of their benefactress. Henry and Mr. +Waters furnished most satisfactory and detailed bulletins to gatherings +of leisurely and congenial spirits, who listened with incredulous +amazement to the accounts of Mr. Welles's proceedings. + +“Him an' that hired man o' his, they have took more stuff over to them +Rooms than you c'd shake a stick at! I never see nothing like it--never! +Waxed that floor, they have, and put more mats onto it--fur and colored. +An' the stuff--oh, Lord! China--all that blue china he got fr'm ol' Mis' +Simms, an' them ol' stoneware platters that Mis' Rivers was goin' to +fire away, an' he give her two dollars for the lot--all that's scattered +round on tables and shelves. An' that ol' black secr'tary he got fr'm +Lord knows where, an' brakes growin' in colored pots standin' right up +there, an' statyers o' men an' women--no heads onto 'em, some ain't got; +it's all one to him--he'd buy any ol' thing so's 'twas broke, you might +say. An' them ol' straight chairs--no upholsterin' on 'em, an' some o' +them wicker kind that bends any way, with piliers in 'em. An' cups and +sassers, with a tea-pot 'n' kittle; an' he makes tea himself an' drinks +it--I swear it's so. An' a guitar, an', Lord, the pictures! You can't +see no wall for 'em! + +“'It's a mighty lucky thing, havin' this room, Thompson,' says he to +that hired man, 'the things was spillin' over. We'll make it a bower o' +beauty, Thompson,' says he. 'Yes, sir,' says the man. That's all he ever +says, you might say. I never see nothin' like it, never, the way that +hired man talks to him; you'd think he was the Queen o' Sheba. + +“An' he goes squintin' about here an' there, changin' this an' that, an' +singin' away an' laughin'--you'd think he'd have a fit. Seems's if he +loved to putter about 'n' fool with things in a room, like women. +I heard him say so myself. I was helpin' Miss Gould with the other +rooms--she ain't seen his; she don't know no more'n the dead what he's +got in there--an' I was by the door when he said it. + +“'Thompson,' says he, 'if I don't keep my present situation,' says he, +'I c'n go out as a decorator an' furnisher. Don't you think I'd succeed, +Thompson?' says he. 'Yes, sir,' says Thompson. + +“'You see, we've got to do something Thompson,' says he. 'We've got ter +justify our existence, Thompson,' an' he commenced to laugh. 'Yes, sir,' +says Thompson. Beats all I ever see, the way that man answers back!” + +An almost unprecedented headache, brought on by her unremitting labor in +effecting the change in the Rooms, kept Miss Gould in the house for two +days after the new headquarters had been satisfactorily arranged; and +as Mr. Welles had refused to open his office for inspection till it was +completely furnished, she did not enter that characteristic apartment +till the third day of its official existence. + +As she went through the narrow hallway connecting the four rooms on +which the social regeneration of her village depended, she caught the +sweet low thrum of a guitar and a too familiarly seductive voice burst +forth into a chant, whose literal significance she was unable to grasp, +owing to lack of familiarity with the language in which it was couched, +but whose general tenor no one could mistake, so tender and arch was the +rendering. + +With a vague thrill of apprehension she threw open the door. + +Sunk in cushions, a tea-cup on the arm of his chair, a guitar resting on +his white flannel sleeve, reclined the director of the Rooms. Over +his head hung a large and exquisite copy of the Botticelli Venus. +Miss Gould's horrified gaze fled from this work of art to rest on a +representation in bronze of the same reprehensible goddess, clothed, +to be sure, a little more in accordance with the views of a retired New +England community, yet leaving much to be desired in this direction. +Kitty Waters attentively filled his empty cup, beaming the while, and +the once errant Annabel, sitting on a low stool at his feet, with a red +bow in her pretty hair, and her great brown eyes fixed adoringly on +his face as he directed the fascinating incomprehensible little song +straight at her charming self, was obviously in no present danger of +running the streets. + +“Good morning, Miss Gould!” he said cheerfully, rising and handing the +guitar to the abashed Annabel. “And you are really quite recovered? +_C'est bien!_ Business is dull, and we are amusing each other, you see. +How do you like the rooms? I flatter myself--” + +“If you flattered none but yourself, Mr. Welles, much harm would be +avoided,” she interrupted with uncompromising directness. “Kitty and +Annabel, I cannot see how you can possibly tell how many people may or +may not be wanting lunch!” + +“Billy Rider tells us when any one comes,” the director assured her. +“They don't come till twelve, anyway, and then they want to see the +room, mostly--which we show them, don't we, Annabel?” + +Annabel blushed, cast down her eyes, lifted them, showed her dimples, +and replied in the words, if not in the accents, of Thompson: “Yes, +sir!” + +“It's really going to be an education in itself, don't you think so?” + he continued. “It's amazing how the people like it--it's really quite +gratifying. Perhaps it may be my mission to abolish the chromo and the +tidy from off the face of New England! We have had crowds here--just to +look at the pictures.” + +“I don't doubt it!” replied Miss Gould briefly. + +“And I got the most attractive sugar-bowl from the little boy who +brought in the reports about picking up papers and such things from the +streets. He said he ought to have five cents, so I gave him a dime--I +hadn't five--and I bought the bowl. Annabel, my child, bring me--” + +But Annabel and her fellow-waitress had disappeared. Miss Gould sat in +silence. At intervals her perplexed gaze rested unconsciously on the +Botticelli Venus, from which she instantly with a slight frown lowered +it and regarded the floor. When she at last met his eyes the expression +of her own was so troubled, the droop of her firm mouth so pathetic +and unusual, that he left his chair and dragged the little stool to +her feet, assuming an attitude so boyish and graceful that in spite of +herself she smiled at him. + +“What is the matter?” he asked confidentially. “Is anything wrong? +Don't you like the room? I enjoy it tremendously, myself. I've been +here almost all the time since it was done. I think Tom Waters must be +tremendously impressed--” + +“That's the trouble; he is,” said Miss Gould simply. + +“Trouble? trouble? Is his impression unfavorable? Heavens, +how unfortunate!” exclaimed the director airily. “Surely, my +application--Does the room fail to meet his approval, or--” + +“Yes, it does,” she interrupted. “He says it's no place for a man to be +in; and he says the pictures are--are--well, he says they are improper!” + glancing at the Venus. + +“Ah!” responded the director with a suspicious sweetness. “He does not +care for the nude, then?” + +She sighed deeply. “Oh, Mr. Welles!” + +“It is indeed to be regretted that Mr. Waters's ideals are so +high--and--shall we say--so elusive?” proceeded the director smoothly. +“It is so difficult--so well-nigh impossible--to satisfy him. One +devotes one's energies--I may say one slaves night and day--to win +some slight mark of approval; and just as one is about to reap the +well-earned reward--a smile, a word of appreciation--all is forfeited! +It is hard indeed! Would you suggest the rearrangement of the Rooms +under Mr. Waters's direction? Thompson is at his service--” + +“Oh, Mr. Welles!” she sighed hopelessly. “It isn't only that! It's not +alone the room, though Mrs. Underwood wonders that I should think she +would be able to conduct the Band of Hope in here, and Mrs. Rider says +that after what her husband told her she should no more think of sitting +here for a mothers' meeting than anything in the world. It's the whole +thing. Why did you treat them all to lemonade the first day? Surely you +knew that our one aim is to prevent miscellaneous charity. And Tom says +you smoked in here--he smelt it.” + +“I smelt him, too,” remarked the director calmly. “That was one reason +why I smoked.” + +“And--and having Kitty and Annabel here all the time! The Girls' Club +are so j---- Well, the Girls' Club like the old rooms better, they say, +and it's so difficult to get them to work together at best. And now we +shall have to work so hard-- + +“And the men think it's just a joke, the lemonade and everything, and +the room gave them such a wrong impression, and they don't seem to want +it, anyway. Tom Waters says he can't abide sarsaparilla--” + +“Great heavens!” the director broke in, “is it possible? A point on +which Mr. Waters's opinion coincides with mine? I have not lived in +vain! But this is too much; I have not deserved--” + +“Oh, don't!” she begged. “There is more. When I corrected Annabel for +what I had heard about her--her impertinent behavior, she said that +Mrs. Underwood had never approved of the whole thing, and that if I had +consulted her she would never have given her consent to your being here, +and that I was dictatorial--I!” + +Her lodger coughed and ejaculated, “You, indeed!” + +“And when I said that their ingratitude actually made me wonder why I +worked so hard for them, she said--oh, dear! It is all dreadful! I don't +know what to do!” + +“I do!” returned her lodger promptly. “Go away and leave 'em! They +aren't fit to trouble you any more. Besides, they're really not so +bad, after all, you know. There has to be just about so much laziness +and--and that sort of thing, don't you see. Look at me, for instance! +Think of how much misdirected energy I balance! And it gives other +people something to do.... Go away and leave it all for a while!” he +repeated smilingly. + +“Go away! But where? Why should I? What do you mean?” she stammered, +confused at something in his eyes, which never left her face. + +“To England--you said you'd like to see it. With me--for I certainly +couldn't stay here alone. Why do you suppose I stay, dear lady? I used +to wonder myself. No, sit still, don't get up! I am about to make you an +offer of marriage; indeed, I am serious, Miss Gould! + +“I don't see that it's ridiculous at all. I see every practical reason +in favor of it. In the first place, if they are gossiping--oh, yes, +Thompson told me, and I wonder that they hadn't before: these villages +are dreadful places--I couldn't very well stay, you see; and then where +should I put all my things? In the second place, I have so much stuff, +and there's no house fit for it but--but ours; and if we were married I +could have just twice as much room for it--and I'm getting far too much +for my side. In the third place, I find that I can't look forward with +any pleasure to travelling about alone, because, in the fourth place, +I've grown so tremendously fond of you, dear Miss Gould! I think you +don't dislike me?” + +She plucked the guitar strings nervously with her white, strong fingers. +The rich, vibrating tones of it filled the room and confused her still +more. + +“People will say that I--that we--” He caught her hand: it had never +been kissed before. “Would you rather I went away and then there would +be nothing left for them to say?” he asked softly. + +She caught her breath. + +“I'm too--” + +“You are too charming not to have some one who appreciates the fact as +thoroughly as I do,” he interrupted gallantly. “I think you do me so +much good, you know,” he added, still holding her hand. She looked at +him directly for the first time. + +“Do I really? Is that true?” she demanded, with a return of her old +manner so complete and sudden as to startle him. “If I thought that--” + +“You would?” he asked with a smile. “I thought so! Here is a village +that scorns your efforts and a respectful suitor who implores them. Can +you hesitate?” + +His smile was irresistible, and she returned it half reprovingly. “Will +you never be serious?” she said. “I wonder that I can--” She stopped. + +“That you can--” he repeated, watching her blush, but she would not +finish. + +“You must not think that I can give up my work--my real work--so +easily,” she said, rising and looking down on him with a return of her +simple impressive seriousness. “I shall have to consider. I have been +very much disturbed by their conduct. I will see you after supper,” and +with a gesture that told him to remain, she left the room, her head +high as she caught Annabel's voice from outside. She turned in the door, +however, and the stern curves of her mouth melted with a smile so sweet, +a promise so gracious and so tender, that when her eyes, frank and +direct as a boy's, left his, he looked long at the closed door, +wondering at the quickening of his pulses. + +A moment later he heard her voice, imperious and clear, and the mumble +of Mr. Waters's unavailing if never-ending excuses. He laughed softly to +himself, and touched the strings of the guitar that she had struck. +“I shall save the worthy Thomas much,” he murmured to himself, “and of +course I do it to reform her--I cannot pull down the village and die +with the Philistines!” + +She went up the long main street, Mr. Waters at her side and Annabel +Riley behind her. Her lodger watched her out of sight, and prepared to +lock up the Rooms. + +“So firm, so positive, so wholesome!” he said, as he started after her. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Philanthropist, by Josephine Daskam + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A PHILANTHROPIST *** + +***** This file should be named 23366-0.txt or 23366-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/3/3/6/23366/ + +Produced by David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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